I awoke this morning to music. I used to awaken to the news. But recently it has been all earthquakes and lightning, and hurricanes a’blowin’. So I switched to music radio.
Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain
We all have sorrow.
That was the first thing I heard this morning and it could not have been more perfect. Last week, our grade school experienced a bit of tragedy. A car accident. A student hospitalized with serious injuries. A family in crisis.
If there is a load you need to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load.
And the response of the good people of our school and in our town was remarkable. Almost immediately after the accident, the student and parents had been wisked away to a hospital in a city a few hours away. When the news spread, there were so many offers to drive there to take the family a vehicle and needed supplies that we literally had to pick and chose. Somewhere an envelope appeared and throughout the day it filled with cash. Offers of assistance came from so many, that it took coordination to get it all sorted out.
You just call on me brother, when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on.
I was blown away, though in hindsight, this kind of response has always been the norm in my small town experience. People genuinely care and are so willing to drop everything to help. This isn’t the first time that our community has been brought together through hardship, and I know it won’t be the last. We shine the brightest in the hardest times. As the song says:
Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on.
I know firsthand the power of small town generosity and it is always humbling to see it in action. Lean on us, the people of this town say again and again. We are here to help.
I think I will keep my clock radio alarm set to music. It was a nice way to start the day and serves to remind me of the good news happening every day in our little town.
School Supplies (08-22-11)
Last Wednesday, HCGS kicked off the school year with our annual “open house,” an hour or so where parents bring their kids to check out the school and drop off school supplies. It is, truly, one of the greatest days in our year. Few moments match open house in terms of pure excitement, expectation, and joy.
When I talk to others about open house, I invariably invoke the same nostalgia for school supplies. “I loved the new crayons,” I’ve heard said. “All the same height and none of them broken.”
“I used to love starting a new notebook.”
“I can still smell the Elmer’s glue.”
“I remember my first Big Chief pad of lined paper! Do they still make Big Chief?”
And on and on. I know my own children thoroughly enjoy the purchase of school supplies, filling their new backpacks, and then bringing it all to school during open house. It is a bit like Christmas in reverse. Instead of waiting to get something, they can’t wait to take something – their school supplies to school. Oh, and seeing their new rooms and meeting their new teachers is pretty exciting as well.
For me, open house reminds me about why I love my job. After another summer enduring a hot, empty building, the halls explode with talking and laughter. All the summer work of the custodians is admired and appreciated as the throngs jostle past each other to see this room’s new paint job or that room’s new carpet.. The building is ready to go and most everything is shiny and new. What a feeling! What a moment to remember!
This year, though, I was reminded of a supply that is not on any list and cannot be found in any store. And it is a supply that the students don’t bring with them, but is something we at the school have to give in great abundance in order for the students to even have a chance to learn. I’m talking about love.
Along with the paper and pencils, Kleenex and Clorox, students can bring to school worry, stress, grief, and loss. Truth is, we don’t know half of what the kids bring to school in terms of disappointment and tragedy. They tend to smile and show excitement, though we know that things are rarely perfect in anyone’s life.
I was reminded of this fact on Friday, when we flew our flags at half-staff in honor of helicopter pilot Byran Nichols, age 31, formerly of Hays, who was recently killed in Afghanistan. In preparation for this article, I did some Internet research, and was surprised to discover that his parents are from Palco and that he was buried in Pleasantview Cemetary, just down the road on Highway 18. I knew that his heroic death hit close to home, I just had no idea how close.
I was also able to learn that his family included a ten year old son, Braydon. I wasn’t able to learn if he had other children. Still, my thoughts kept going out to this boy and what he must be bringing to school this year along with his new school supplies.
In the face of pain and loss, all a school can offer is love and support. Yes, teaching and learning are the prime activities, but love and caring must be the prime concerns. Sometimes we know of the pain a student brings to school and sometimes we don’t. Either way, it is the responsibility of the school to love all children and to help give them the tools to overcome even the worst pain when it may occur.
The good news is that love is not is short supply. The account of the Nichols funeral was filled with the love and prayers of thousands who turned out from all over the state to pay tribute to this fallen soldier. He paid the ultimate price, and in return, he is accorded the ultimate honor. We are all a little safer, a little more free because of his sacrifice. And Braydon and the rest of his family are a little more loved.
Love is truly the greatest and most abundant of the school supplies.
When I talk to others about open house, I invariably invoke the same nostalgia for school supplies. “I loved the new crayons,” I’ve heard said. “All the same height and none of them broken.”
“I used to love starting a new notebook.”
“I can still smell the Elmer’s glue.”
“I remember my first Big Chief pad of lined paper! Do they still make Big Chief?”
And on and on. I know my own children thoroughly enjoy the purchase of school supplies, filling their new backpacks, and then bringing it all to school during open house. It is a bit like Christmas in reverse. Instead of waiting to get something, they can’t wait to take something – their school supplies to school. Oh, and seeing their new rooms and meeting their new teachers is pretty exciting as well.
For me, open house reminds me about why I love my job. After another summer enduring a hot, empty building, the halls explode with talking and laughter. All the summer work of the custodians is admired and appreciated as the throngs jostle past each other to see this room’s new paint job or that room’s new carpet.. The building is ready to go and most everything is shiny and new. What a feeling! What a moment to remember!
This year, though, I was reminded of a supply that is not on any list and cannot be found in any store. And it is a supply that the students don’t bring with them, but is something we at the school have to give in great abundance in order for the students to even have a chance to learn. I’m talking about love.
Along with the paper and pencils, Kleenex and Clorox, students can bring to school worry, stress, grief, and loss. Truth is, we don’t know half of what the kids bring to school in terms of disappointment and tragedy. They tend to smile and show excitement, though we know that things are rarely perfect in anyone’s life.
I was reminded of this fact on Friday, when we flew our flags at half-staff in honor of helicopter pilot Byran Nichols, age 31, formerly of Hays, who was recently killed in Afghanistan. In preparation for this article, I did some Internet research, and was surprised to discover that his parents are from Palco and that he was buried in Pleasantview Cemetary, just down the road on Highway 18. I knew that his heroic death hit close to home, I just had no idea how close.
I was also able to learn that his family included a ten year old son, Braydon. I wasn’t able to learn if he had other children. Still, my thoughts kept going out to this boy and what he must be bringing to school this year along with his new school supplies.
In the face of pain and loss, all a school can offer is love and support. Yes, teaching and learning are the prime activities, but love and caring must be the prime concerns. Sometimes we know of the pain a student brings to school and sometimes we don’t. Either way, it is the responsibility of the school to love all children and to help give them the tools to overcome even the worst pain when it may occur.
The good news is that love is not is short supply. The account of the Nichols funeral was filled with the love and prayers of thousands who turned out from all over the state to pay tribute to this fallen soldier. He paid the ultimate price, and in return, he is accorded the ultimate honor. We are all a little safer, a little more free because of his sacrifice. And Braydon and the rest of his family are a little more loved.
Love is truly the greatest and most abundant of the school supplies.
Quality Standards (08-15-11)
This week, the staff of USD 281 will be learning about new standards. We have for years been preparing students according to Kansas State Academic Standards, and now we begin a multi-year process of switching to a national set, optimistically labeled as “Common Core Standards.”
I say optimistically, because there is great debate about just what every child should know or be able to do. Beyond the “three r’s,” (readin’, ritein’ and rithmatic!), it sometimes seems that there is more disagreement than agreement about the “core” of what should be taught when and to whom.
All this talk of standards reminded me of a wall display I saw in Kansas City, at The Whole Foods Market. Over their front entrance in glorious six-inch tall letters, were listed the Whole Foods Market Quality Standards.
There were six statements in all. “We carefully evaluate each and every product we sell” and “We are committed to foods that are fresh, wholesome and safe to sell” as well as “We are passionate about great tasting food and the pleasure of sharing it with each other” and so forth.
I was impressed with the simplicity of it all. Six easy to remember standards proudly displayed and (one would assume) readily implemented.
I am a big fan of keeping things simple, something I learned from my high school algebra teacher. “Remember kids,” he would say almost daily. “KISS. Keep It Simple, Stupid!”
(He said this in an age BEFORE political correctness. It is a mantra I will never forget.)
When I was a high school English teacher, I taught the state standards and did my best to prepare the students to succeed on the state reading and writing assessments. However, with the KISS philosophy ever on my mind, I operated by a far more simple set of standards. I had two: 1. Improve my students’ ability to read and comprehend what they read; and 2. Improve my students’ ability to write and express themselves through writing.
I didn’t post those on the wall of my classroom in six-inch high letters, but I did recite them often.
All this got me to thinking about the quality standards we should set at the grade school. I immediately thought of two: HCGS will help all students will feel safe. HCGS will help all students will feel loved.
And then I thought a third: “HCGS will take all students from where they are at to as far as they can go.”
Later I came up with “Because we believe that all students CAN learn, HCGS will help all students TO learn.”
These four statements reflect only my personal beliefs and were what came immediately to mind. They are in no way official or complete. I marvel at how an entire grocery store chain could so concentrate their focus as to operate on just six simple standards. The state has issued dozen (perhaps hundreds) of state standards, and the common core standards add even more.
The Whole Foods Quality Standards would not be easily assessed with a multiple-choice-test. The very word, “Quality” is too open to interpretation. Rather, they evoke an emotional response that is best assessed through perception and feeling.
When we think of our schools, do we feel pride, or do we feel shame? Do we feel that going to work is a noble cause or a pointless burden?
I know I feel proud to be part of Hill City Grade School, and I think that our teachers feel proud in how they do their jobs. Mostly, I think that the parents are proud of our school and that there is a common purpose that connects us all. We know what is important and it is not simply preparing students for taking tests. As we are inundated in yet another standards movement, it will more important than ever to remember our local quality standards.
I say optimistically, because there is great debate about just what every child should know or be able to do. Beyond the “three r’s,” (readin’, ritein’ and rithmatic!), it sometimes seems that there is more disagreement than agreement about the “core” of what should be taught when and to whom.
All this talk of standards reminded me of a wall display I saw in Kansas City, at The Whole Foods Market. Over their front entrance in glorious six-inch tall letters, were listed the Whole Foods Market Quality Standards.
There were six statements in all. “We carefully evaluate each and every product we sell” and “We are committed to foods that are fresh, wholesome and safe to sell” as well as “We are passionate about great tasting food and the pleasure of sharing it with each other” and so forth.
I was impressed with the simplicity of it all. Six easy to remember standards proudly displayed and (one would assume) readily implemented.
I am a big fan of keeping things simple, something I learned from my high school algebra teacher. “Remember kids,” he would say almost daily. “KISS. Keep It Simple, Stupid!”
(He said this in an age BEFORE political correctness. It is a mantra I will never forget.)
When I was a high school English teacher, I taught the state standards and did my best to prepare the students to succeed on the state reading and writing assessments. However, with the KISS philosophy ever on my mind, I operated by a far more simple set of standards. I had two: 1. Improve my students’ ability to read and comprehend what they read; and 2. Improve my students’ ability to write and express themselves through writing.
I didn’t post those on the wall of my classroom in six-inch high letters, but I did recite them often.
All this got me to thinking about the quality standards we should set at the grade school. I immediately thought of two: HCGS will help all students will feel safe. HCGS will help all students will feel loved.
And then I thought a third: “HCGS will take all students from where they are at to as far as they can go.”
Later I came up with “Because we believe that all students CAN learn, HCGS will help all students TO learn.”
These four statements reflect only my personal beliefs and were what came immediately to mind. They are in no way official or complete. I marvel at how an entire grocery store chain could so concentrate their focus as to operate on just six simple standards. The state has issued dozen (perhaps hundreds) of state standards, and the common core standards add even more.
The Whole Foods Quality Standards would not be easily assessed with a multiple-choice-test. The very word, “Quality” is too open to interpretation. Rather, they evoke an emotional response that is best assessed through perception and feeling.
When we think of our schools, do we feel pride, or do we feel shame? Do we feel that going to work is a noble cause or a pointless burden?
I know I feel proud to be part of Hill City Grade School, and I think that our teachers feel proud in how they do their jobs. Mostly, I think that the parents are proud of our school and that there is a common purpose that connects us all. We know what is important and it is not simply preparing students for taking tests. As we are inundated in yet another standards movement, it will more important than ever to remember our local quality standards.
Time To Start Again (08-09-11)
Last week, at the Colby Walmart, I had a bit of a surprise. My cashier recognized me by name.
“I used to live in Hill City,” the woman explained. “You used to write the Principal Perspective column. Whatever happened to that?”
Uh oh. My rather long hiatus from this column had been noticed. Sigh.
This is a good week to start again. Enrollment is this week, and this is not only an exciting time in our school calendar, but it is a moment where our small town school shines over our big city counterparts.
I know this because when I was at Wichita State taking my classes to become a principal, I was required to spend some time in schools of a different size than the school where I taught. For me, that meant spending time in large, urban school districts, and the day I spent at Hutchinson High School just happened to be their first day of enrollment.
With over two thousand students, the Hutch High enrollment reminded me more of the cattle call of enrolling at KU. They had tables and lines, and a virtual maze for the parents to follow as they collected this form and that, paid this fee or that bill, and picked up various pieces of information. About the only words spoken between the army of workers behind the tables and the throng of enrolling families were, “Name?” and “Next!”
Contrast that against the enrollment at Hill City Grade School. Our dedicated secretary, Melanie Kennedy, meets with each family at her desk. There are a few chairs set up in the hallway for overflow and there are clipboards provided so that forms can be checked and completed while waiting. When a family meets with Melanie, she has time to explain the paperwork and answer questions. But more than that, she has time to reconnect with the families, to ask about vacations and rec sports, to listen to stories about weddings, funerals, and jobs, to compliment the kids on just how tall they gotten over the summer.
Mrs. Kennedy values the face time and feels that her time is best spent visiting with the families who walked through the door. She is proud of the fact that by the time she enrolled all of the students, she has physically seen and spoken in person to almost every family in our school. She not only knows the faces and names of each parent and student, she knows something about them.
In a small school, enrollment is so much more than simply processing paperwork and collecting fees. It is more than just starting a new school year. At our school, enrollment is about starting up again those all-important relationships and lines of communication between the school and families who trust us with their children.
This time of starting again is a time of great pride and celebration. I am just glad I ran into someone who reminded me that, in terms of my principal perspective, it was time for me to start again as well.
“I used to live in Hill City,” the woman explained. “You used to write the Principal Perspective column. Whatever happened to that?”
Uh oh. My rather long hiatus from this column had been noticed. Sigh.
This is a good week to start again. Enrollment is this week, and this is not only an exciting time in our school calendar, but it is a moment where our small town school shines over our big city counterparts.
I know this because when I was at Wichita State taking my classes to become a principal, I was required to spend some time in schools of a different size than the school where I taught. For me, that meant spending time in large, urban school districts, and the day I spent at Hutchinson High School just happened to be their first day of enrollment.
With over two thousand students, the Hutch High enrollment reminded me more of the cattle call of enrolling at KU. They had tables and lines, and a virtual maze for the parents to follow as they collected this form and that, paid this fee or that bill, and picked up various pieces of information. About the only words spoken between the army of workers behind the tables and the throng of enrolling families were, “Name?” and “Next!”
Contrast that against the enrollment at Hill City Grade School. Our dedicated secretary, Melanie Kennedy, meets with each family at her desk. There are a few chairs set up in the hallway for overflow and there are clipboards provided so that forms can be checked and completed while waiting. When a family meets with Melanie, she has time to explain the paperwork and answer questions. But more than that, she has time to reconnect with the families, to ask about vacations and rec sports, to listen to stories about weddings, funerals, and jobs, to compliment the kids on just how tall they gotten over the summer.
Mrs. Kennedy values the face time and feels that her time is best spent visiting with the families who walked through the door. She is proud of the fact that by the time she enrolled all of the students, she has physically seen and spoken in person to almost every family in our school. She not only knows the faces and names of each parent and student, she knows something about them.
In a small school, enrollment is so much more than simply processing paperwork and collecting fees. It is more than just starting a new school year. At our school, enrollment is about starting up again those all-important relationships and lines of communication between the school and families who trust us with their children.
This time of starting again is a time of great pride and celebration. I am just glad I ran into someone who reminded me that, in terms of my principal perspective, it was time for me to start again as well.
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